GRASSMERE GINGERBREAD

Oh, why did I make this?

It's fab and totally irresistable.

If you haven't experienced this wonderful cocncotion it's a sort of light, slightly chewy cross between a ginger flapjack and a shortbread.

I found a recipe for it the other day and made some this afternoon. I've already demolished two squares and am wondering whether to confess to this, or to eat another one and pretend I baked it in a square tin and cut it into nine pieces!

The very first time I encountered Grasmere Gingerbread was when I was at school, probably about in the old 'fifth form'. Our form teacher was a vicious tyrant by the name of Mrs Spicer, who was really into public humiliation and who terrified me so much that I could learn nothing in her history lessons. For some reason on this single occasion, she made an effort to be nice, (it sticks in my mind for that very reason - in the seven years that I was at Morpeth it was honestly the only time she was nice!) and she brought Grasmere Gingerbread in for the girls in her form. It was wonderful and a real treat, although I distinctly remember Mrs Spicer yelling at Judith Wymark for being greedy and taking the bigggest bit!

I remember we used to try to work out her mood as we all stood to attention as she walked into the classroom. When we were younger we thought there was a correlation between the way she carried her handbag and the mood she was in! If it was nestling in the crook of her arm, we MIGHT be okay, but if she was holding it down by her side, all hell would shortly break loose!

She was the sort of woman who would get struck off these days for emotional and verbal abuse. She had a wicked tongue, didn't think twice about applying a sharp rap across the hand and would make you stand for ages if you dared to forget one of the dates she tried to drum into us. I'm sure I'm not the only one who dreaded her lessons and nearly curled up and died when we found out she was going to be our form teacher.

Oh, happy days (NOT!)